


Clean Air

by mrhd



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26899126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrhd/pseuds/mrhd
Summary: Geralt likes the way Jaskier tastes.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 237





	Clean Air

**Author's Note:**

> For Kinktober Day 7 prompt: Rimming. Only one day late this time!

Jaskier tastes much like he smells. Light, almost floral, sweet from the honey he mixes into his drinks, and always, at least a hint of something darker, of arousal. Which gets deeper, richer, whenever Geralt sticks his tongue into Jaskier’s mouth to taste.

They’re at an inn, a respite after a fortnight in the dirt and dust of the road. Jaskier had immediately ordered a bath, and then had proceeded to dump buckets of water over his own head and Geralt’s before deeming them clean enough to step into the bathwater. Geralt had heated it with Igni until it was almost too hot for a human to stand. Jaskier’s never complained about the heat though, and Geralt likes the way it makes Jaskier’s fair skin flush.

Jaskier had been impish and flirty in the bath, poking Geralt’s thigh with his toes, stretching his long time, tilting his head back to bare his throat, winking at Geralt whenever he’d caught him staring.

Eventually Geralt had had enough of it, and had simply picked up the bard and tossed him, still damp, onto the bed.

Jaskier had moaned and Geralt had stuck his tongue in his open mouth, and that’s where they’ve been for the past several minutes, Jaskier’s fingers gradually tightening on Geralt’s shoulders.

Geralt growls again and nips at Jaskier’s jaw.

Jaskier moans again, loud and open-mouthed and whorish. Geralt shoves three of his fingers into his mouth.

Jaskier hums around them, sucking hard and, as always, skillfully working his tongue.

Geralt’s cock jerks between his thighs in envy, but Geralt is much more interested in turning Jaskier into a wreck before he gives him his cock. Moves on from Jaskier’s jaw, trailing his tongue and teeth down the column of his throat. He can feel the small movements of it as Jaskier continues to work over Geralt’s fingers. Geralt bites into his neck, right over a bruise that’s already purple from two nights ago, worrying the skin between his teeth.

He always feels a bit animalistic, wolfish, when he does it, and it would bother him, if not for the way that the scent of Jaskier’s lust spikes every time.

Geralt had known before he’d ever bedded him that Jaskier enjoyed a wide variety of both partners and acts in bed. He’d never intended to eavesdrop, but Jaskier has always been both loud and shameless, and Geralt has a witcher’s hearing.

Geralt lets go of Jaskier’s neck to soothe the wound with his tongue before trailing further down, licking at Jaskier’s sweat, salty and heady.

Jaskier moans again around Geralt’s fingers, getting sloppy now, drooling around them.

Geralt pulls his wet fingers out of Jaskier’s mouth and sets them to work on his left nipple instead, sealing his mouth over the right one.

Jaskier’s moans pitch higher and he arches his back, pressing his chest into Geralt’s mouth and fingers. As soon as he does so Geralt pulls back, making sure to look Jaskier in the eye as he does.

Jaskier’s lips are full and wet and red, his cheeks pink, his eyes glittering. He musters a pout. “Geralt…”

“Yes?” Geralt says, running his palms over Jaskier’s soft stomach.

“You’re a terrible tease,” Jaskier accuses, pouting prettily.

“Hm,” Geralt says noncommittally. He avoids Jaskier’s cock, instead cupping his hands around Jaskier’s hips.

Jaskier wiggles.

Geralt bites back his grin as he flips Jaskier over effortlessly.

Jaskier yelps and then moans, tucking his arms and legs beneath himself, practically presenting his ass.

Geralt groans and grabs Jaskier again, pulling him closer so he’s straddling Geralt’s lap, and so his ass is right in front of Geralt’s face. He pulls Jaskier’s ass cheeks far enough apart that he can blow a stream of air against his hole, watching Jaskier’s muscles tremble as he shivers.

Jaskier’s scent is strongest here, darker, dirtier, despite the floral soaps and oils that Jaskier always uses in his bathwater. It makes Geralt’s mouth water, and he can’t resist licking a long stripe from Jaskier’s balls to the top of his crack.

Jaskier’s shivery moan is almost as good as his taste, so Geralt does it again, and again, until Jaskier is whining, and then Geralt curls his tongue and sticks it in Jaskier’s hole.

Jaskier wails and tries to grind back against Geralt’s face, but Geralt still has him by the hips and holds him still as he pulls back to lick around Jaskier’s hole, to suck at it a little, trying to imprint the scent, the taste, into his own skin.

Jaskier’s noises become constant, pitching up in surprise whenever Geralt does something unexpected, low with arousal when Geralt gives him what he wants, and thready with whines when he doesn’t. Geralt eats him out with single-minded focus. He can feel Jaskier’s cock dripping against his thighs, can feel his blood racing beneath Geralt’s grip. He’s surrounded by Jaskier, by his litany of sounds, by his human warmth, by the smell and taste of him, inside and out. If he could, Geralt would stay like this, his tongue in Jaskier’s ass, forever.

“Fuck, fuck, Geralt, I’m going to, oh, that feels so good, just a bit more,” Jaskier babbles. “So lovely to me Geralt, treat me so well with your tongue, oh, oh!”

Geralt feels Jaskier come spill onto his bare thighs, but he doesn’t stop, keeps working, keeps tasting until Jaskier is panting, mewling.

Geralt pulls back regretfully, but he knows how sensitive it can be after, doesn’t want to hurt Jaskier.

Jaskier is boneless in Geralt’s lap, ass still held high by Geralt’s hands on his hips, but his torso collapsed onto the bed. He hums and pats at one of Geralt’s hands. “Thank you, dear,” he says. “Mm, I do love when you do that.”

Geralt can see the muscles in his back trying to stretch out, so he lets go, laying Jaskier out on the bed and rubbing his back, helping the muscles along.

Jason hums contentedly and squirms a bit. He looks up at Geralt and smiles, soft and lazy. “Come here, dear witcher,” he says. “You haven’t come.”

“It’s okay,” Geralt says awkwardly. His cock is still hard and red between his thighs, but at the same time he feels satisfied; every time he breathes he can smell Jaskier on his face, taste him on his lips when he licks them.

“You don’t want to come on my back?” Jaskier offers. “Get your scent all over me?”

A low growl escapes Geralt before he can stop it. He’s satisfied, but…

Jaskier’s grin grows cocky. “Come, Geralt, come across my back, I want to feel it, want to feel you.”

Geralt grunts and shifts on his knees so he can point his cock at Jaskier’s back, slimmer than his own, less scarred, unscarred, except for the one slash that curls around his side to his back from a drowner Geralt was too slow to catch.

“Geralt, please, let me feel it,”

Jaskier says, and that does it. Geralt comes with a groan across Jaskier’s back, painting the skin.

Jaskier moans with him, clearly delighted by the stimulation, even if it’s too soon for his all too human body to get excited again. “That was good, Geralt, all good, all so good. Mm,” he babbles.

Geralt lies down next to him on the bed, unable to resist running his hand up and down Jaskier’s spine, rubbing his own come into his skin.

Jaskier sighs under the petting and relaxes.

The room smell strong, come and sweat and pheromones heavy in the air. Geralt inhales it deeply, pulling the mixture of him and Jaskier into his lungs. It’s better than clean air could ever be.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter @mrhdfic!


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